


All of Me

by fanetjuh



Series: Jonsa Week [52]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/fanetjuh
Summary: Sansa married Jon to give him the Stark name and the support of all the high lords in the North. But Jon didn't just marry her for her name and he's waiting for the right moment to tell her that.





	All of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 5 of JonxSansafanfiction's Love Songs Event on Tumblr

 

He folded his hands under his head while he looked at her.

Her delicate fingers loosened her braids while she stared at her own reflection.

He could remember her beautiful smile. He could remember the gleam in her eyes. He could remember her constant rambling, even when no one was actually listening. 

Sometimes he wished he had tried harder at the time. But he had swallowed all his compliments one by one. He had never told her that she was beautiful. He had never told her that he believed her to be kind. He had never told her that he liked hearing her talk about her dreams for the future. He had never tried to go against the stories Catelyn told her about him.

But he most of all wished that he had enjoyed it more. They had still been children, innocent, protected, pure. They had never really known true sorrow, because Ned had shielded them from it as much as he could. If only they had known that it would all pass, that war would come to them, that they would be forced to grow up way too fast in a world that wanted to break them in a thousand little pieces.

The smile on her face was gone now. Mostly her lips were forming a straight line. The few times she did curl her lips up she didn’t actually mean it.

Jeoffrey had taught her that her smile was a weapon she had to learn how to wield. 

The gleam in her eyes had faded. She had seen too much violence and death. She had witnessed too many executions and funerals. She had run for her life too often.

Ramsay had taken everything that made her gleam and left nothing but pain and darkness instead.

She never spoke about the future anymore. She had given up on finding a prince, a knight in shining armour to save her. She was a warrior now, a piece in a board game without any idea how to win. 

Peter Baelish had taught her that all man were wolves in sheep's clothing.

She was now simply fighting to stay alive and to keep whatever slivers of her old past and her old self still remained. And she had given him her name because it was what she had to do to keep Winterfell safe, to make the North rally behind them, to stand the smallest chance in the biggest war Westeros had ever seen.

And he didn’t know what to do now. He didn’t dare to touch her. He didn’t dare to ask her what she wanted. He doubted if she even knew what she wanted.

They were married now. 

And he doubted if she believed that three times was a charm. 

She turned around and shivered when her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. Her white nightgown barely shielded her from the winter. 

Jon watched how she slid under the warm blankets. And just like all the nights before she turned her back towards him and he didn’t dare to move closer, to wrap an arm around her, to keep her warm and protected. 

“Goodnight, Jon.” She blew out the candle on the nightstand, but this time Jon didn’t reply with a simply you too. 

“Sansa?” He whispered her name and waited. 

A long second passed. A minute passed. 

He tried again. “Sansa?”

“Yes?” She murmured, but she turned around to face him. She had dark circles under her eyes and she looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“I didn’t just marry you for your name, you know.” He didn’t move. He was afraid to scare her, to end this conversation before it had even begun. “And you’re more than the queen who makes me a true king.”

Sansa blinked a few times, but she didn’t say anything.

“I know you’re not ready for it. Maybe you’ll never be and that’s fine with me.” He took a deep breath. “But if you wanna have me, all of me, you can have it.”

Sansa closed her eyes. “Father always promised me a man worthy of me. He promised me someone brave and gentle and strong.” She swallowed. “I mistakingly thought he promised me love, but he didn’t. I was never meant to have it.”

Jon shook his head and before he realised what he was doing he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Do you think I don’t love you?” Jon hissed between his teeth. “Do you think you can’t love me?”

“We can’t afford ourselves to dream.” Sansa bent her head. “It doesn’t matter if we can or can’t love each other. We’re married. Sooner or later they expect me to get pregnant and give you a son.”

“Do you think I don’t love you? Do you think you can’t love me?” Jon repeated his question and Sansa let out a deep sigh.

“It's war, Jon. There’s no room for love.” Her voice was barely hearable and she almost choked on each and every word. 

“Do you think I don’t love you? Do you think you can’t love me?” Jon wrapped an arm around her and she didn’t flinch, didn’t move away from him. 

This time Sansa kept silent.

“It's war. And maybe our dreams our foolish. But when this is all over and when we survive.” He purposely used the word when and not if. “I will still want to be with you and I hope you’ll still want to be with me.”

A genuine smile spread across her face. “I will.” Sansa moved a little closer towards him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “But I’m not longer the naive child who believes in fairytales.”

“It's not naive, Sansa.” Jon closed his eyes and his lips kissed her red hair and her forehead. “It's hope. And it’s beautiful.”


End file.
